


memories and marks (inked onto my skin like a map of my heart)

by grimmauld



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 10:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmauld/pseuds/grimmauld
Summary: Peter didn’t expect himself to end up at a tattoo parlour when Mr. Stark told him to scram from the tower.





	memories and marks (inked onto my skin like a map of my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> come hang on tumblr @rlversongs xx

Peter didn’t expect himself to end up at a tattoo parlour when Mr. Stark told him to scram from the tower. _ ‘Get outta here, kid, you’ve not gone outside for anything other than parols for three days.’ _He didn’t really want to but Mr. Stark did have a point. 

The tattoo parlour was small, a hole in the wall next to an equally small, equally hole in the wall cafe. _ The Garage _ it was called. He stood out the front for a solid minute just staring up at the sign. He didn’t even think as he pushed the door open. His entrance was punctuated by a soft jingle. It was quiet, no waiting customers. 

A loud _ pop _ drew him from his trance. At the front desk sat a teenage girl with bright red lipstick popping her bubblegum. She had dark brown hair with bangs, it was long and had both sides shaved. Her nose was pierced in both nostrils, and a septum piercing hung between the two rings. A thin chain connected the two nostril piercings to the septum. She didn’t seem to have any tattoos, strange for working at a tattoo parlour.

“Can I help you?” She asked, monotone, staring at Peter with black rimmed eyes.

Peter froze for a second.

“Hi, I’m, uh, I’m Peter-” He fumbled, not really knowing why he was here or what to say.

“Abby!” Came a call from the back room. A second later, the most gorgeous man Peter had ever seen in his entire life popped his head around the door.

“Was that a customer I heard?” The man said with a somewhat masked southern accent.

“Yeah, his name’s Peter, he doesn’t seem to know how to talk very well.”

Peter’s face was slowly turning red. The beautiful man walked the full way out and looked over Peter appraisingly.

“Hi,” the man said, flirty tone colouring his voice, “I’m Harley, I’m the owner and artist here. This is my little sister Abby. What can we do to help?”

In all of Peter’s nineteen years of life, he’d never been so lovestruck so quickly. Harley, the name suited him.

“I-I really didn’t think when I walked in here. I’m very sleep deprived.”

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Harley said, gesturing to the leather ottoman next to Peter’s leg. Peter sat. A green pot plant brushed his arm. Harley sat next to him.

“You don’t want a tattoo, do you?”

“Well- I mean, I’ve always wanted something. But not right now. I mean, I don’t even know what I’d want.” 

Peter was distracted, Harley’s arms were filled with little tattoos, leading up to where his t-shirt was covering his shoulders. Peter blushed again.

“Does that sound good?”

Wait, what? Harley had said something but Peter hadn’t been listening at all.

“S-sorry, what?”

Harley chuckled lightly. “How about you come back tomorrow, I can draw up a few things you might like tonight and if you decide to get a tattoo I’ll do it. If you don’t then you don’t, but at least I’ll have gotten to see you again.”

It seemed Peter would be soaked in red for the rest of his life if Harley got his way. Mutely, Peter nodded. Harley slipped him a piece of paper and sent him on his way. The door jangled as he left the building. 

His brain a million miles away, Peter walked to the cafe next door, ordered and paid for a hot chocolate on autopilot. Sitting at the first empty table, Peter pulled out the folded paper Harley pressed into his hand. He unfolded it carefully. Inked neatly in dark black pen were a series of digits, two confidently placed ‘x’s underneath, just to the right of Harley’s written name. He was snapped out of his one-sided staring contest with the paper by the simultaneous arrival of his hot chocolate and the incessant vibration of his cell phone ringing. Peter quickly thanked the waiter and answered the phone.

“Kid! Pep’s making dinner in half an hour, are you going to be back here or are you going back to May’s? Also where are you?”

“Oh, uh- I’ll be back at the tower. I’m just at a cafe right now, just a drink don’t worry about it.”

Tony hummed down the line, then said his goodbyes, distracted if the metallic _ clinks _were anything to go by. The line went dead. Peter sighed and picked up his drink. Should he actually go back? Should he get a tattoo? He really didn’t think any part of today through. He programmed Harley’s number into his phone, double-double checking that he got all of the numbers correct.

**peter + harley the tattoo guy**

** _(17:40) peter: _ **hey is this harley from the garage?

** _(17:42) harley the tattoo guy: _ **yep!

** _(17:42) harley the tattoo guy: _ **peter, i presume?

** _(17:42) peter: _ **yeah it is :)

** _(17:43) peter: _ **it was nice to meet you today

** _(17:43) peter: _ **what time is good for you tomorrow?

** _(17:45) harley the tattoo guy: _ **anytime after 1 pm okay?

** _(17:46) peter: _ **sure! no probs

Peter finished his drink and left the store quickly. He was sort of excited about tomorrow, not just because of Harley, but because he wasn’t lying when he said that he wanted at tattoo. He’d have to tell Tony that he was going to take an hour or two off around 1:30 in the afternoon.

-

Tomorrow came, and Peter wasn’t mentally prepared. He was unfocused the entire day, leading up to when he could leave. Neither Tony nor his web shooters were thanking him for his nervous energy.

It was 11 am when Tony finally cracked.

“Alright, Pete, out with it. What’s with the whole,” he cut himself off here and just made a vague gesture at Peter’s general being.

Peter flushed.

“I’m uh- I’m getting a tattoo today.”

Tony stared at him, not saying anything.

“You think the tattoo artist is hot, don’t you?”

Peter didn’t expect to be caught quite so easily.

“No! Yes. I didn’t mean to walk into the tattoo parlour but I did and then he said to come back today ‘cause he’d draw some things that I might like.”

“You know, I know someone who owns a tattoo parlour here, he’s around your age too. I gave him the money to set up. He’s a real bright kid, works with just his sister. I crashed into his garage when he was twelve. He was going to be an engineer but when he was sixteen he told me that he really just loved art. So I set him up for an art degree. He’s in his final year now, the tattoo parlour isn’t open most days of the week because of it. I think he still wants to go to MIT but not for a little while. His name’s Harley by the way, I was thinking of inviting him up next week to meet you.”

Peter blinked in shock.

“Harley? Is his sister’s name Abby?”

“Holy shit, underoos! The hot tattoo artist is my Harley!” Tony whipped his prototype StarkPhone out, shooting off a text before yelling at the inbuilt AI to dial Harley and put it on speaker. The annoying ring of a phone filled the air.

“Old man? What do you want?”

“Harley! Hi, quick question. Did you have many customers yesterday?”

“At the parlour? Yeah, why?”

“Pick one, describe them for me?”

“... Okay, weird. Sure. Tall but still shorter than me, lean, pretty brown eyes. Brown hair, blushed a load, kind of shy but spoke clearly. Small mouth with really pink lips. New York accent. He was really cute, kinda wanted to ask him on a date the moment I laid eyes on him. His name was Peter. Why?”

Tony grinned at Peter and gestured for him to say something.

“H-Hi Harley.”

“Excuse me, fucking what?”

“Peter is my personal intern, it was purely chance he ended up in your shop but oh how fate is pleased with me. This is amazing.”

“I’ll be at your shop at quarter to two, Harley. I’m sorry for… Tony.”

The last thing Peter heard as Tony hung up was Harley’s disbelieving laugh.

-

The time came for Peter to leave to meet Harley. Tony sent him off with a shit-eating grin. 

“Have fun, but not too much. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Peter rolled his eyes, straightened his dark blue knit jumper and head out the door. Peter was bisexual and had nervously drunk a load of coffee, so the walk over was brisk. When he arrived, Abby was seated at the receptionist’s desk once more, both feet propped up on the surface, bubblegum ever present.

Harley walked out into the front area when Peter pushed the door open, the little bell sounding his arrival. He smiled in greeting and urged for Peter to follow with a wave of his hand. They walked into a back room, decked out with a small sofa, a leather chair for the client to sit in and a small stool for the tattooer, along with a few benches, shelves and a sink. The two of them sat down.

Peter was mesmerised by Harley’s fingers—unmarked by the ink everywhere else along his arms—as they opened a sketchbook to a page near the back.

“I drew up a few designs last night, and a few this morning.” It seemed Harley was ignoring the topic of Tony Stark for the moment. 

Peter looked over the pages, blown away by the beautiful yet simple designs Harley had drawn for him. There were a few sketches of a skull, swirls for eye sockets and the words ‘super diligunt mortem’ doodled above each one in different fonts. There was a simplistic eye, a swirl for the pupil and the words ‘is your mind open?’ looped above in delicate handwriting. It seemed Harley was big into swirls. A museum statue bust, a bandaid, a bluebell. Two hands, pinkies linked and with a red line drawing over top but slightly to the left, the words ‘Mine is yours’. Peter didn’t really get the relevance of that one. Each of the tattoo ideas had a time and date written next to them. The ones drawn this morning were tailored more to Peter as a person. A laboratory flask with sloshing liquid, Tony’s arc reactor, and the hand movement that Peter makes when he shoots his webs out. Which… did raise questions. Did Harley know that he was Spidey? Surely he didn’t.

“I like the arc reactor,” Peter said, smiling gently.

“Figured you might. Tony said that your favourite super was either Spider-Man or Iron Man. I doodled both so that you could pick.”

“How much would it cost? To get a small arc reactor, just on my inner wrist.”

“How does eighty sound?”

Peter nodded, then looked at the tattoo chair with trepidation.

“Have a think, talk to Tony if you want. Don’t tell him what you get though, I want to surprise him with it. If you _ really _want it, come back in an hour. I’ll have everything set up for you.”

Peter smiled gratefully and took his leave, a small smile at Harley and a wave at Abby. He went to the cafe next door and once again ordered a hot chocolate. He had already made up his mind. He was totally getting the tattoo. He just needed to mentally prepare himself for it. He called Tony.

“Underoos! What’s up? How’s Harley?”

“Harley’s fine. I’ve decided to get it. Do it. I need you to calm me down. It’s happening in an hour.”

“Alright, listen kid. Harley’s a professional. He did his apprenticeship, he has a license. He did my tattoo, and yeah the kid built all his own tattoo machines—from scratch, with just a drawing of what he wanted it to look like—but he’s a certified genius and he’s never had a fault with them. He’s a mechanic too, you know? You’ll be alright kid, and you’re gonna love it. What’re you getting, anyway?”

“He built them himself? I know you said he was smart but I didn’t know you meant design his own tech smart. And you can’t know, Harley wants to surprise you.”

“Ah, he’ll make a post on his Instagram then.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,”

“What for, kid?” Peter could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up. He really didn’t have anything to do, so he went back to the shop half an hour earlier than they specified. He figured he’d just kill time getting to know Abby.

Abby was at the desk, as she always seemed to be, doing absolutely nothing, _ as she always seemed to be. _

“Hey,” Peter smiled.

Abby smiled back. Peter took a seat near the front desk and started rambling on to her.

“How old are you anyway? You seem awfully young to be working at a tattoo parlour.”

“I’m seventeen, dude,” she said with a laugh. She seemed to like Peter, which was a good thing considering he wanted to date her brother. Apparently, Harley wanted to date him too, but that was probably just a fleet of fancy. “Most people think I’m older, it’s the piercings. You’re the first to have actually seen my baby face underneath.”

Peter grinned, “us baby face’s have to stick together.”  


Harley peeked around the corner, walking out fully when he spotted Peter.

“If it isn’t my favourite customer!”

“Hey, Harley,”

“Decide to bite the bullet and come early or tell me to bugger off and leave forever without getting inked—by me, at least,” He said jokingly.

“Figured I should get it done sooner rather than later. Less time to psych myself out, you know?”

“I know. My first tattoo was terrifying and I love teasing Abby about when I give her her first.”

Abby rolled her eyes before leaning down to rummage around in a drawer.

“Consent forms and waivers, Harls, where’d you put them?”

“Filing cabinet behind you, dumbass.”

She stuck her tongue out before turning and unlocking the cabinet. With a flourish, she pulled out the forms Peter needed to sign.

“Tada!”

Peter and Harley grinned in tandem. Peter quickly signed the forms, making sure he slowed down to answer the questions about his health.

Harley led him to the same back room from earlier that day. Peter sat in the chair and watched as Harley readied his supplies. 

Harley switched on the machine, a harsh buzz filled the room. He held it steady above Peter’s inner wrist.

“Ready?” Harley asked, eyes searching Peter’s face.

Peter took a steadying breath and smiled. “Yep.”

The needle hit his skin.

-

The tattoo was finished in just over an hour. Harley wiped it down gently with a mild soap and water mix before snapping a quick picture without the redness truly setting in. He wrapped it in plastic sanitation film and went to wash his hands.

“You’re going to want to keep it wrapped for at least three days, preferably five. You can use an antibacterial ointment, too, also for three to five days. We sell some up the front. 

“Can I post this to my Instagram?”

Peter nodded, looking over Harley’s shoulder as he carefully typed out a caption.

**@thegaragetats**

_ <img_90> _

awesome arc reactor tattoo for @peterman based on @tonystark ‘s arcs

Peter smiled at the caption and nodded when Harley looked to him for approval. He hit post. Peter’s phone vibrated with the notification. Not five seconds later his phone was buzzing with a phone call.

  
“You kidding me, kid?”

“Do you hate it?” Peter sounded as nervous as he felt. Harley bit his lip.

“‘Course not, it’s beautiful. Harley did good. I dunno, I was just expecting you to get a spiderweb or some nerdy thing like the chemical formula for your web fluids. I’m touched, kid. Truly.”

Peter grinned. Harley visibly relaxed.

“So you like it?”

“Yeah, kid, I do. Put Harley on for a moment, I want to talk to him.”

Peter furrowed his brows but did what the man said. Harley looked just as confused as Peter felt as he took the phone.

“Yeah, old man?”

Peter couldn’t hear what Tony was saying, so he was left with the one-sided conversation. It was mostly hums of agreement or denial from Harley.

He passed the phone back.

“All right?”

“Yeah. Listen, kid, I gotta run. You’ll be at the tower again tonight?”  


“Yep, see you later,” he replied, still confused.

Tony said goodbye and hung up.

“What was that all about?” Peter asked.

“Eh, nothing you need ta worry about, darlin’” Harley replied, slipping in a smirk and a wink.

Peter flushed. His arm hurt.

-

Peter kept finding himself back at the tattoo parlour even after his tattoo had fully healed. Of course, he and Harley were good friends now, they texted on the regular and Tony had him come to the tower more often. They hung out in the labs, blowing shit up and tinkering with random electrics, and they hung out around the city, but they never seemed to go back to the tattoo parlour. Unless, that is, Peter went there by himself.

The faithful jingle of the bell punctuated his entrance as usual. Abby looked up, a hopeful smile on her face that increased ten-fold when she saw it was Peter. They got along like a house on fire.

“Peter-man!” She called.

  
“Abby! My favourite Keener!” He called back.

“That’s so fuckin’ rude,” Harley called from the other room. 

Peter grinned, only somewhat lovestruck. Abby quirked her eyebrows and made kissy faces at him. He stuck his tongue out in response.

“Client?” Peter asked Abby. Normally, Harley would be out the front as soon as he heard Peter’s voice. Today he remained in the back area.

She nodded. Peter leant on the front desk, leaning in conspiratorially.

“I was thinking of asking your brother in there on a date,” he said quietly.

Abby grinned wildly. “Fucking do it, Parker, he wants to snog you so badly.”

Peter blushed a light pink and sighed wistfully.

Harley walked out with a client in tow, a small and wiry guy in a pink shirt with suspenders.

“You propositioning my sister, Parker?”  


“Why, of course not, Keener, you know that you’re the only one for me.” He was only sort of serious.

Harley rolled his eyes and left the client with Abby to pay. He gestured for Peter to follow him with a crook of his finger.

Harley sat him down in the same tattoo chair from two weeks ago.

“Let’s see how that tattoo is doing, yeah?”

Peter lifted his sleeve. It had healed perfectly, he was happy with the turnout and pretty much as in love with Harley as he could be. Literally, he was fucking perfect.

“Perfect,” Harley mumbled, eyes scanning the small tattoo. He looked up to see Peter staring at him.

He lunged forward, until their mouths were separated only by a hair’s breadth.

“Harley,” Peter whispers, eyes trained on Harley’s lips. He nods.

Their lips connect.

Harley groans under the soft weight of Peter’s lips. Their tongues snaked out to meet each other, curling in a heated dance. Peter licks into Harley’s mouth with fervour, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“Harley, you have a client.”

They broke apart, faces flushed. Peter scrambled away from Harley, breathing heavily. Abby was staring at them with a blank stare, leaning heavily on the doorframe.

“Fuck off, Abby.”

“Yeah, you don’t actually have a client.”

“So you’re just being a bitch then?”

“Yeah. Okay, love you, bye. Don’t fuck in the chair.”

Harley rolled his eyes and threw a roll of paper towels at her. Siblings, right? He pulled Peter back to him.

“Harley, wait.”

Harley waited.

“Is this just… something to do or do you actually want this? Do you want more? Do you want me?”

Peter hoped his voice and his face didn’t portray how deathly terrified he was. He_ really _liked Harley. He didn’t want to fuck up now.

“I want you. Peter Parker, I _ want _you.”

“Like,” Peter pauses searching for the right words, “as a boyfriend? As an _ in it for the long haul _kind of thing?”

“_ Yes. _”

Peter kissed him. Peter kissed him until he ran out of air, then he kissed him again.

-epilogue-

You kind of get used to the pain of new tattoos. That’s what Harley said, and Peter really didn’t believe him but then he got his second (and his third) and, well, Harley wasn’t so wrong after all. They still hurt, of course, it’s not like you suddenly flip a switch and feel nothing. It just becomes an exciting sort of pain.

Since his first, Peter has added the conical flask and the Spidey hand (which got a few adjustments when Harley found out _ he was _ Spider-Man). Both of them from Harley’s sketchbook that very first meeting. 

Today he was getting a new tattoo. He didn’t get them a lot, as shown by his three tattoos over three years. Abby was away from the store on her own tattoo apprenticeship. The twenty-year-old was going to take the tattoo world by storm. She was amazing, just like her older brother. Harley was twenty-four now and already complaining about old age. Peter was twenty-three and calling him old. The new receptionist wasn’t as good. Still fucking phenomenal, but nothing could replace Abby’s deadpan snarking. Don’t tell Harry he said that.

Tony had gotten a tattoo from Harley, too. He thought it was hilarious so he got the word ‘Thwip’ on his inner wrist, right where Peter’s arc reactor was. ‘Thwip’ because apparently, that’s what the webs sound like when Peter, well, thwip them out.

Harley’s collection had grown a lot over three years. He ran out of room on his left arm and slowly started filling his right. He had added Peter’s birthday to the space where Abby, his mum and Tony’s were. He had a wrench on his outer wrist now, and a tattoo gun on his forearm. An Ironman helmet and a Spidey mask found home on his bicep. Today he was getting a new tattoo, too.

They were going to be _ that _couple. Matching tattoos.

Peter was up first. On the back of his left upper arm in black ink Harley carefully outlined two hands, pinkies interlocking tightly. It was simple and minimal, clean lines. He wrote the words in a neat typeface, simple. Mine is Yours. He switched to red ink. Once more he outlined two hands and their pinky promises, this time slightly to the left. He put a diamond ring on the ring finger of the hand facing outwards. 

“Forever,” he whispered when he was done. “Marry me?”

“Yes. Of course it’s yes,” Peter grinned, love and overwhelming happiness filling his features.

Harley pulled out a small black box from his back pocket, the ring inside was gorgeous. It was a thin, white gold band with a black oval diamond set in the centre. Harley slipped it onto his finger.

Peter pulled him into a kiss, pushing all of his love into Harley through their mouths, their tongues. 

He took a picture for his Instagram. He washed the tattoo gently and wrapped it. 

**@thegaragetats**

_ <img_184> _

new ink new ring for my fiance (!!!) @peterman 

_ Liked by: _@peterman @notmj @guyinthechair @officialspidey @tonystark @absterkeener @harleykeenster @pepperpotts @starkindustries

Change contact information?

**harley the tattoo guy > harley the fiance guy**

_ Accept. _

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a drabble and now we're here


End file.
